


Friendly Fire on The Battlefield

by Myabers013



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: AU where Leon and Claire are RPD officers, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Cop Leon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-28 17:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myabers013/pseuds/Myabers013
Summary: It will take the entire police department to get through if you want to lay a finger on Leon S. Kennedy, new recruit of the Raccoon Police Department. For one Mr. X, however, that can be seen as an enticing challenge.(AU where there is no outbreak and Leon and Claire are RPD cops)





	1. Detective Elliot's Intuition

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank **Chasing_Serenity** for their work, which started the inspiration for this pairing. 
> 
> I swear this started out as one of those haha pairings, and then I got invested. 
> 
> No outbreak takes place (for now?), and RPD is like one big supportive family-that is extremely protective of poor naive Leon. Claire is also a police officer and is Leon's partner whose got his back. This is going to be a slow burn before we get into the steamy stuff, so stay strong because I like to save the best for last.

The Raccoon Police Department was hustling with activity today, but then again, so was the rest of Raccoon city itself. 

The whole building was embroiled with officers, secretaries, and desktop bookies scrambling around each other like rabid dogs trying to get everything in order. The former museum must have seen better days, when people simply walked the hallways with a respectful quiet, it’s historical atmosphere somehow maintained even after its renewal as a police department. Now there is constant chatter and impatient sprinting, bodies crashing into each other as papers, equipment, and furniture are moved out of the storage rooms and forgotten archives. The main hall was an absolute terror, the second floor was incased with police traffic, especially around the chief’s office—and the Lounge Room and Break Room were forbidden from being entered. Everyone was here today; too, even the elite S.T.A.R.S. members were supervising around the main hallways coordinating their officers of where they needed to go. Those who were supposed to be off the clock were still here, graciously putting their personal hours where assistance was desperately needed. 

It was sort of the reason why Elliot was at his desk, staring at a mountain of paperwork that was literally thrown at his once pristine desk, just when he was about to throw on his coat and make a hasty retreat to his apartment. His favorite sketchbook was in there somewhere, along with his personal flash drive and favorite pen—Elliot’s scrutiny to the disorder was all the more detestable. 

The detective was trying to catch a brief moment to enjoy his cup of coffee—brewed by Officer Aaron himself, a good sign for today—trying to make himself as invisible as possible in his desk cubicle so that he did not have to leave. Behind him, Rita was sprinting back and forth between the East and West Office, displaying visible signs of distress while making it clear how much help she needed. 

Elliot would rather be ripped in two than have to deal with running around the numerous stairs that built up this aging architecture. 

Leveling his dignity to gaze around his surroundings, Elliot took note of who was still holding out from today. To the detective’s right, Records Keeper David Ford was on the phone with a city official regarding date verifications. Elliot faintly recalled Lieutenant Branagh sending Officer Scott and Neil upstairs to organize the Safety Deposit room. At the very end of the desk rows, its back facing the short flight of stairs that led to the commotion still going on outside in the Main Hall, Leon Kennedy’s desk was surprisingly unoccupied. Above his desk, the banner “Welcome Leon” still hung up above, untouched and casually swaying back and forth as chaos below ensued. It will have to come down today. Elliot would rather do it himself; fearful someone else will simply tear it down carelessly, unaware of the effort Marvin went into putting it together. 

The newly appointed arrival of Leon was a welcoming addition, his optimistic—and somewhat naïve—personality provided the entire department a gentle refreshing mood. Eventually that will have to change and the young rookie will have to harden himself if he is ever going to survive this city, but for now everyone seemed to treat him with an equal amount of patience along with a strong case of protectiveness. Not that the kid needed it, having shown his capabilities out in the field with de-escalation and suppression, but regardless even Elliot had a soft spot for the new recruit. 

Elliot can’t imagine where Leon was at this time—probably with Officer Claire Redfield, no doubt—knowing better than to come down to the first floor. The two were quite the pair and near inseparable after the young woman volunteered to properly induct Leon around the department, just in time before this catastrophe came out of nowhere. 

Then again, how often does the Raccoon Police Department get two representatives from the Umbrella Corporation to oversee Raccoon’s best and finest? 

_They want to review our performances and the department as a whole_ , Elliot recalled his Lieutenant’s debrief, the day before when everyone was still present in one room. _Don’t worry; they’re more interested in the S.T.A.R.S. division than our blues._

The decisive fire that has driven Elliot’s instinct throughout the course of his proactive career hasn’t stopped grinding those gears of thought since the first mention of Umbrella physically paying a visit to the police department. 

_Why would a pharmaceutical corporate—a company that focuses their subsidiaries on pharmaceuticals, consumer products and transport tourism—set their sights on a relatively successful police department?_

_A publicity stunt for public appearance,_ Elliot’s withering senses tried to construe, starving for caffeine. _Maybe we’ll get some free promotional stuff out of this._

Another mystery, another task that definitely required more coffee than the cold one resting in the detective’s loose grip. With great effort, Elliot tore himself away from the security of his desk, embracing whatever was thrown his way to be carried upstairs, starting to feel guilty for his laziness. The man gave that pile of papers one last withering glare before choosing to deal with the papers at a later time. Sure enough, three boxes full of a portion of last month’s incident reports were placed in Elliot’s arms, and he was briskly instructed to head over to the S.T.A.R.S. office and pass them off to Chris Redfield. 

Officer Edward barely made it upstairs before he felt a restrained bump against his three boxes, almost sending him back down to what could have been a nasty fall. Cautious this time—because Elliot couldn’t have his day be any better—he waited until whoever ran into him made themselves known and got out of his way. 

“Sorry Detective Edward! I was distracted!”

Ah, it was the rookie. 

“Way to go, Leon!” Claire’s chirpy teasing was clearly heard behind Leon’s form. Leon looked over his shoulder and shot the unseen brunette a dirty look. 

“It’s alright, Leon. It’s not like I haven’t been rammed into three times already this morning,” Elliot tried to ease the rookie, noting the younger male’s panic at carelessly bumping into his senior. At least Leon apologized, whereas Rita almost took out Elliot with a spare chair earlier this morning. 

“Do you need help? Claire and I just helped reorganize the library,” Leon tried to appease further, helpful as always. Even Claire, having finally popped around Leon’s back to peak at the Officer, perked at the opportunity to help as well. 

_If only we all still have that kind of energy, Elliot thought to himself._

“No,” Elliot resisted, despite the thought of retreating to his desk space to be most enticing. “I needed some exercise anyways.”

Leon relented, still eyeing his superior questionably. “Alright,” the dirty blonde sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know what kind of people are coming in today, would you?”

“Performance review, but I’m starting to think Chief Irons has something to do with this,” the thought process left Elliot’s mouth before he thought twice to look around his surroundings, lest the wrong person hears his dirty gossip. 

“That’s it?”

“I suppose. You’ll have to ask the Lieutenant—if you can find him.”

Using that send off as a way to cut out of this conversation and get his errand over and done with, Elliot left the curious pair behind to start a careful excursion up the stairs. He didn’t even make three steps before he felt two their familiar presence return—more like glue to his side. 

“But straight from the Umbrella corporation?” It sounded more like Claire was talking to herself than to the detective, not quite finished with their small conversation. Rather than be rude—because it wasn’t like the two were actually bugging him, Elliot focused his efforts on trying to survive up the second floor. Leon and Claire had no problem using him to cut through the erratic crowd that spewed everywhere, huddling close behind the slightly taller man in hopes of making it to the top of the stairs. 

“You don’t suppose this has more to do than a ‘performance review’, right?”

Elliot had to think that thought over while making a hard rights into the clustered library and cutting into the lounge room to get to the S.T.A.R.’s office, his trailing party keeping close and alert to the activity that surrounded them, Leon’s interests zoning in on Claire’s one sided conversation. Further in the back of his mind, Elliot reminds himself these boxes had to get to Wesker’s office as soon as possible before the elusive man returned with their new guests. 

“Branagh said the representatives will be occupying two of our offices for a time,” the detective passed along, not really feeling the urge to press into the situation. “They’ll be watching over us for a month, nothing more.”

“That’s kind of uncomfortable,” Leon finally added his piece to the conversation. He frowned. “I hope they’re not thinking of separating the division.”

Elliot looked over his shoulder to the younger man, offering reassurance. “The Chief wouldn’t allow that, rookie. That guy isn’t open to changes, if you haven’t noticed already.”

Leon nodded passively to that information. 

When the trio entered the S.T.A.R.’s, they were equally surprised at the lack of personnel moving around in the armory and the mountain of storage boxes at the foot of Albert Wesker’s office door. Elliot assumed that was where these boxes were to go, and prodded his stack to the rest, not really caring where to put it. He assumed Wesker would figure out how to organize these documents on his own, or have some of the other elite members help him. 

Chris Redfield was the one moving stuff around in the Armory. When he stepped out to see who had visited the quiet office, he beamed at the familiar faces with genuine relief. 

“Hey troops! Come here to add more to that crap pile?” Chris spoke casually, formalities never quite suiting his demeanor. 

“Nah,” smiled Claire. “Just wanted an excuse to see your ugly mug!”

Chris huffed at Claire’s little snippy comment, preferring to put his efforts into cleaning up the cluttered floor in the Armory rather than fall victim to his little sister’s teasing.

One of the S.T.A.R.’s members had come up to Elliot, requesting the man drop off some old gears to the top clock tower for the incoming maintenance. The old bell hasn’t been used for so long, with recommendations for several pieces in need of replacement. 

Leon Kennedy—a blessing through and through—offered to drop off the mechanical devices himself in Elliot’s stead. The man couldn’t have been more grateful; he really didn’t want to go that far up in the building, especially to that dreadful clock tower. Knowing his kind of luck, the blasted old bell will fall apart while he was up there. 

“Get back as soon as possible, Leon,” Chris reminded. “Each unit is getting their own formal introduction from the Umbrella officials any minute now.” 

“I got it.” Leon waved over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

“Don’t break anything, Leon!”

“You wish!” 

Elliot watched after the rookie, mindful to keeping tabs on the kid’s location should Lieutenant Branagh ask where the new recruit ran off to this time. Out of the entire police division, Marvin was typically the most concerned for the younger man’s safety. 

Detective Edward was going to sit down for a bit, maybe observe one of the numerous herb plants laid around the area. Just when the detective thought he could steal another undeserved break, he felt the encompassing presence of the male Redfield hovering over him, his sister already gone and somewhere else. There was an amused glint in the man’s eyes as he spoke to the tired male next to him, leaving him on edge. 

“So, Officer Edward. You want to help organize these boxes by dates?” 

\--

If the deafening silence that encompassed the entirety of the Main Hallway wasn’t foreboding enough, it was the blatant hushing of distant voices that left Elliot on the edge of his seat. The momentary sounds of rushing movements and rapid activity ceased all at once when everyone was directed to their original stations for their own introductions. 

No one in the west office made a sound once Marvin came back, David remaining as still as possible to keep his notoriously loud chair from making a raunchy squeal. Even George and Neil were uncharacteristically rigid at their assigned desks. Only Rita had the balls to get up and kneel down to cup her left ear in order to make out what was being said beyond the exit door excluding the division from the first presentation—ignoring the passive disapproval from Lieutenant Branagh. The woman was shameless in her efforts to listen in on any sort of clue as to whom or what their guests could potentially be, her features determined and focused. 

George and Neil quietly started a game of tossing a red ball back and forth to one another; for once their game was unusually quiet. It was clear the two notorious clowns were using one of their many games as an outlet to relieve some stress and anticipation. For a while they add Elliot to the game before the detective opts out in favor of getting himself another cup of coffee to help him stay upright. 

David started working on the crossword puzzles from last week’s Sunday newspaper, the etching’s of his pen audible under the thickening quiet hovering the office. The man has the worst case of bags under his eyes, having pulled a double shift and now has to endure today’s ordeal as well. Elliot was surprised Officer Ford didn’t drop right there and now ever since everything went quiet.

Elliot closed his eyes, hoping to take in a few more minutes for himself. 

Marvin looked around to what was left of their west wing, watchful and observant as ever, and took immediate note of the five occupants other than himself—one missing. 

“Where’s Leon?”

Elliot looked over his shoulder to see that Leon’s desk was indeed empty. Dread proceeded to slowly run down his neck as the detective remembered the existence of the new recruit. 

A rushed reply erupted from Elliot as his eyes widened in shock. “He’s up on the clock tower still!” Elliot jumped out of his seat, panic starting to set in, fully prepared to go and find the younger man. 

He was already formulating the quickest route in order to get to the kid without being seen. He’ll have to run like hell to reach Leon before the new people arrive. 

“Why is he even up there? I sent that boy to pass off slips to reception a long time ago.”

“My fault,” Elliot revealed guiltily, prepared to accept any repercussions. He should have helped rather than leave a task for a new rookie to figure out. Christ, maybe Leon got lost up on the third floor and couldn’t come down. What if he was trapped? This overriding fear broke out a horrible feeling in his gut. “I’ll go get him—I’ll be fast!”

“ _Unbelievable._ Don’t let anyone catch you—“

“’—I’m on it.”

“If Irons even see’s you both in the hallways, you’re at his mercy—“

“—Oh please, like that porker would leave his creepy taxidermy for actual work!”

“Elliot, I’m dead serious—“

“A-Are they carryin’ somethin’ over here?” Rita’s thick southern drawl cut off her subordinates’ short argument, puzzlement defining her features to what she could make out from out the hallways as it grew closer to their direction. The younger female pressed her cheek against the old mahogany door, uncaring of the splinters starting to prickle at her delicate skin as the woman became more confused at the thunderous sounds. “Somethin’ big is comin’? Are they bringin’ boxes? I swear if I have to lug around another box, I’m gonna—“

It would take Lieutenant Marvin his countless years of training in the force to heighten his quick reflexes into action, jumping over three rows of disorganized filing cabinets to reach the blonde woman, yanking her up by the back of her white formal collar to her feet, just in time before the door was brusquely flown open, but that wasn’t what made Rita let out a short stifled shriek. It wasn’t the rough action by her commanding officer, or how the door had been so viciously thrown open, but to the figure that emerged—Elliot tripped on his own two feet and landed loudly back in his chair, unable to tear his eyes away at what stomped into the West Wing Office. 

Completely clad in a large black trench coat, the figure’s broad physique stretched the extremely extra large coat more so, displaying an indescribable energy both disconcerting and nerve-racking. The person—obviously a man—had to duck under the door opening just to get inside the office, their black fedora secured over their shadowed characteristics. Elliot wished the lighting in this office space was better—heaven forbid Chief Irons put proper funding into maintaining this old building—because from where the man stood, Elliot swore the stranger had wrinkles adorning the entirety of his pale white face. It could have been scars, or perhaps a permanent burn, but Elliot wasn’t about to scrutinize further because the colossal person had not once blinked, eyeing each shrinking individual intensely, observing… and studying. 

Elliot forgot all about what he was supposed to do, who he was supposed to find, and couldn’t find the strength to get back up from his seat. In fact, Elliot can’t really feel anything below his waist. He could have pissed himself empty and not notice. It was those eyes, the way the tall man watched Elliot was like being cut through, exposed to whatever it was the detective was being looked over for. 

No one noticed Albert Wesker walk in soon after, followed by a man and two women. 

“Lieutenant Branagh,” the S.T.A.R.S. Captain addressed Marvin customarily, still wearing those black shades even under the terrible lighting. “We weren’t interrupting anything were we?”

Marvin quickly propped Rita to her feet, who by then regained composure upon her upper captain’s entry. The darker skinned man replied sharply, “No, Captain. We were just about to sit down.” 

“I insist, stand if you can,” the uptight man retorted, his voice trimly and icy. “Then again, I wouldn’t want to interrupt any of your daily routines.” 

Elliot had to ignore that last bit in the sharp man’s remark. Times like this reminded the detective how much he already disliked the S.T.A.R.S. Captain. Frankly, he could have gone the rest of his career in the force without seeing this guy. 

Wesker addressed each individual down the line. Behind the trio, that tall figure hovered above, his gaze not once faltering. His demeanor didn’t seem to affect any of the new occupants, not even Wesker. “This is Chief Researcher William Birkin—Researcher Annette Birkin—and officiate Ada Wong. They will be temporary guests for a short time. I am to assume you have all been previously briefed regarding their routine visitations.”

The woman in the tan coat cocked her hip to the side, apparently bored and mind elsewhere. The other woman, Annette, was more interested in the blue folders held carefully in her hands, but it was clear she was still attentive even as she flipped through the thick papers with quick precision. The chief researcher—William, was it—smiled politely as Captain Wesker continued to speak. 

“Dr. Birkin will be leading the performance review, so maintain professionalism on and off duty. Reviews will be returned to Chief Irons afterward—including S.T.A.R.S. Do be aware however, any discrepancy, or impeding Dr. Birkin in his review will come with grievous repercussions.”

There wasn’t any room for a counter argument, and the room remained silent. George and Neil shared a look, knowing full well their particularl choice of shenanigans around the office space won’t come without punishment. Elliot was going to have to be extra careful with his loose tongue; else he really will land in hot water. Add Chief Irons to the list, and it became very clear the gravity of this program’s importance. 

“Detective Elliot Edward?”

Elliot lifted his attention immediately, following that hollowed voice to Annette Birkin’s face. 

“You were the attending officer for the Arklay Mountain incident? Regarding the hikers found up in the mountains?”

Elliot blinked to that question, confused to its importance over the performance review. The detective never wanted to think back to that night. The disfigurement onto the bodies was undoubtedly animalistic, and it was presumed to have been from an animal attack. “Yes, ma’am. I was on call for that time, so I was at the scene.”

“I’m going to need your statement from that event, as well as where the bodies are currently being held in. I would like to investigate the cadavers as soon as possible.”

“Alright.” Elliot answered more promptly, ignoring that underlying disconnected tone. 

“Does anyone have any questions regarding our project so far?”

Neil raised his arm with renewed animation. “Yeah, are we gonna get some free stuff?”

David threw one of his paperclips at the back of Neil’s head for his stupidity, shaking his head at the man’s childish antics. Dr. Birkin on the other hand thought the action to be quite amusing, and remained smiling towards the casual display. 

“Maybe? I could put in a good word with the higher-ups.”

“I apologize for Officer Carlsen’s behavior,” Marvin interceded smoothly. “We try not to encourage his degenerative habits as much as we do with his efficiency in the Force.”

“It’s alright. Usually people we work with are a bunch of stiffs, so this new environment is… refreshing,” William returned casually.

“Um, is… “Rita gulped. Unlike the rest of her party, the woman had more courage to ask that one question that was likely on everyone’s mind. “… Is he part of the review as well?” Lifting her hand carefully, Rita pointed to the main source of everyone’s anxiety. 

“Who, him? Ah—“William came off as if he had forgotten the domineering figure shadowing over him was there to begin with, passing the question off lightheartedly. He waved over his shoulder lazily, tone oozing with playful ease. “This is our bodyguard, courtesy from Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. He has no affiliation to the performance review, so don’t worry too much over his attendance.”

 _As if,_ Elliot inwardly balked. _The guy was kind of hard to miss._

He could see why the guy would pick the bodyguard business. Elliot can’t imagine any mugger even thinking about attempting anything onto the officials after seeing that kind of protection. 

“If that is all, then we will proceed onto the next office.” 

“Thank you, Captain Wesker. We’ll get back to business on our end.”

The large man in the black coat—the bodyguard—moved ahead of the group to lead his entourage across the office and up the stairs to open the door leading towards the main hallway, but halted almost immediately as he craned his head down. There was a flourishing sound of papers falling and items being dropped to the floor, and a rushed sound of timid surprise that lit up the hairs on the back of Elliot’s neck. 

“I-I’m sorry! I… I…”

“I was wondering where you were, Officer Kennedy.”

Marvin tore himself away from Rita’s side; ready to cut in between Leon and the bodyguard, protective instinct on high alert at the sound of the younger rookie’s fear stricken voice. Maybe the Lieutenant felt the same foreboding vibes coming off of the giant the same way Elliot did, alarms going through the roof as the larger figure stared down Kennedy into submission. The S.T.A.R.S. Captain held up his hand, stopping Branagh in his tracks, tilting his head in Leon’s direction, slightly amused by the boy’s discomfort under those black shades. 

“You attendance was expected.”

The man’s venomous tone left the poor boy without color to his face, barely formulating apologies as he desperately grabbed at the papers still floating in the air. Elliot had to painfully watch as the rookie dropped to his knees and scrambled to pick up everything else he dropped. 

Detective Edwards couldn’t take it anymore, and jumped up over the stair’s railing, somehow squeezed under lumbering figure still craning in the door, and threw himself next to Leon’s side in an instant. The bodyguard didn’t appear perturbed by the scene at his feet, and stiffly stood there waiting. While he was trying to catch his breath—because really someone at his age shouldn’t be doing stuff like that unless he went back to the gym—Elliot tried to ignore Leon’s panicked breathing as the poor blonde was left embarrassed with himself. 

_“Leon, what the hell happened? Where were you?”_ Elliot hissed into Leon’s ear under a hushed whisper, forsaking his own pride by grabbing all the papers and items that Leon had dropped. 

_“The tower door wouldn’t open and I got stuck. I had to jimmy it open. What was I supposed to do?—Kick it down?”_

_“Yes!?”_

Once the two got everything out of the way, Elliot got in front of Leon and scooted him away from the towering figure that proceeded to enter the Main Hallway. What was really off putting was the way the cloaked man continued to stare after Leon’s location even as Elliot made a point to get in between the two. Elliot was practically shaking in his shoes, eyes front and center as Wesker stalked his way across the center quad area to the next destination, the two researchers close behind the captain. The woman in the tan coat looked over her shoulder towards the rookie and offered a hidden smile, sly with her expression before steeling her gaze after the group. 

The bodyguard continued to stare after Leon for one more moment, and then lumbered on after the S.T.A.R.S. Captain. 

Elliot finally let out that breath he didn’t know he was holding in, with Leon anchoring his head against Elliot’s left shoulder for support—equally overwhelmed yet red in the face. Marvin finally popped his head out the West Office door along with Officer Ford, both looking after the group one more time to make sure the coast was clear. 

And then Claire starts running down the stairs with a stricken expression, having watched the whole ordeal take place from above. She didn’t waste any time to bring up what was going to be the number one topic of discussion for a long time to come. 

“Jesus, did you see that guy?”

Somehow Leon managed to breathe out, “Don’t be rude, Claire,” before slumping back to the cold marble floor with Elliot in tow. 

\--

From there on, the following couple of days remained relatively the same. 

Truthfully, Elliot was expecting more of a hands-on in person evaluation, under the kind of schedule that would have kept the man on his toes even when he took breaks, but that wasn’t the case. Or at least, it didn’t openly appear that way. 

Dr. Birkin would come and go as he pleased, true to his intentions of making a point to be out of the way and not anywhere where he could cause trouble. Eliot appreciates that, if only visitors that made the R.P.D. their target had the same kind of courtesy. If only every visitor walked that leisurely pace, ghost-like as can be, with an irksome inducing knowing smile that defined that pale face. The detective couldn’t make out if the man was too generic or too off-putting—maybe an equal both. 

_Christ, what did Mrs. Birkin see in a man like that? Maybe it was the personality…_

Elliot will eventually catch sight of the Birkin’s only daughter, Sherry Birkin. The little sprite was the exact opposite of her inflexible parents, always on the go, chaperoned constantly by that big hulking bodyguard—his footsteps made it very clear when he was present—her sights set on the endless labyrinth that was the Raccoon Police Department. Lately, detective Edwards noticed Officer Claire has been the little girl’s shadow lately. 

The weather took a turn for a sudden downpour; the sound of the rain pelting against the windows obscured Elliot’s train of thought from his work. The clouds were thick and dark, brining in a cold spray of wind, but that wasn’t going to deter Elliot from getting up from his seat to get a nice cold soda can. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the police department to return to how it used to be. The halls were somberly quiet once again and the officers, records keepers, and reception returned to their normal routines as if the previous anarchy never took place at all. Whatever it was the Umbrella officials wanted in terms of records and filing documents, it had disappeared to their desired locations, especially that horrible mountain that nearly took over Albert Wesker’s office. The detective took in the resumed peacefulness between the halls, basking in the atmosphere with each casual stride as he made his way out real quick. This time, no one rammed into the tall man the moment he left the sanctity of his office space. 

The detective, taking some extra exercise up the hallway stairs that led up to the men’s locker room, wanted to sneak a break to his favorite vending machine. 

(It was his favorite because the Sprite button was rigged to pop out free cans.)

The man laid his weight against the machine, performing a sweeping surveillance to make sure no one saw his actions before he pressed on of the old buttons. There came a disgruntled groan as the vending machine came alit with life, the gears and wiring that made its singular function worked itself with a loud vibrating sound and then kerchunk—out popped a green can of Sprite. He was about to press the button again until he heard rushed footsteps making a beeline in his direction. 

_Fast._

Elliot turned his head around just in time to see Leon in his side peripheral view, positioning himself firmly close to the detectives right flank. Very firmly. 

“Hi there, Leon.”

“Good afternoon, Detective Edwards.”

“Are you… are you okay, son?”

Leon was giving the upper level stairs a hard look for the longest time, before jerking his head to his superior to give in an answer, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Where’s Claire?” Elliot passed off calmly, while his instincts scream that something was not right. The kid looked a little frazzled—nervous, even—but not terrified. Elliot has never seen that before on the rookie’s face, not even on his first day on the job. The senior officer could still remember the younger male’s hopeful face upon sight of the department’s warm welcome, all too excited to join the force. 

“She’s with Sherry Birkin… they’re playing hide and seek in the conference room,” Leon whispered in rapid succession, eyes still firmly glued to the stairs he ran down from. 

Elliot decided to turn his head this time to see what has the rookie all riled up, forgetting about the second can of Sprite the vending machine dispensed. At first he was expecting this to be some kind of game, something the younger novices were trying to play over Edwards just to see his reaction. And while Elliot was all for games and giggles, because he did appreciate a good laugh here and there—the energy coming off of Kennedy pushed Elliot’s instincts into feral alertness. 

“Anyone in particular… you’re looking for?”

“No one…” Leon whispered lowly this time, shrinking little by little as he took small breaths. 

The man felt a dead chill go down his entire spine along with a sudden urge to spread the breadth of his body in front of Leon, when an alarming uproar of footsteps sounded down the hallway—making Elliot’s heart painfully skip a beat. 

Elliot held his breath and to this day, he still didn’t understand why. 

While he’s never actually seen the man as often as possible, detective Edwards remembered Kevin Ryman’s voice—or more specifically that laugh of his. The man was in a heated carefree debate with fellow officer Aaron about sports. The two didn’t take notice of their subordinates, too embroiled in their blatant arguments as they continued down and out of view, unaware of the other party’s existence in front of the vending machine. 

Elliot blinked several times after a moment of silence; feeling dazed and confused after the adrenaline slowly receded from his brain. Had the detective turned around in time, he would have noticed Leon’s short expression of confusion before the younger male took a breath. 

“What the fuck Leon? You scared me—“

“I-I’m sorry, Officer Edwards. I thought… ” 

Elliot scowled, slightly. “Everything alright?”

“It’s…” The rookie took a moment, visibly conflicted with his own battling thoughts as to whether or not he should share his grievances, which offended Elliot. The detective never thought he gave the young rookie the impression that he couldn’t confide in him. 

“No, no, it’s nothing—“ Leon said in a rushing statement. The boy was upset, and Elliot couldn’t figure if it was he himself that was the new cause for the rookies’ embarrassment. “I should go meet with officer Claire for our night shift.” Leon took off after that last sentence, barely passing an, “excuse me, sir,” cutting Elliot from pressing further into the matter. 

“Excuse me?”

Detective Edwards must have had the most ridiculous, dumbfounded face—because when he looked down to find the source of that soft voice, little Sherry Birkin was giggling at his feet. Jesus, the older man didn’t even hear the girl walking up next to him. 

“Yes?”

“Do you know where Mr. Kennedy is right now?”

“O-oh, uh…” The man had to remember how to speak for a bit, much to the amusement of the eleven-year old. “He just went out for work, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

This information didn’t appear to deter the little girl, and she smiled with a loud, “Okay!” and ran back up the stairs. Above the third floor, Elliot could clearly make out her talking to someone, and then those all-too-familiar stomps can be heard walking away into the farthest distance. 

Elliot was left in the hallway with both cans of Sprite sodas, burning in his tightened fists with their cold aluminum, and that was about the only feeling the man had in his body—his brain left wracked with a headache. 

\--

Leon’s drastic change in behavior suddenly became more prevalent and increasing, and this left Elliot with a sickly feeling with a horrible thought in mind. The detective started to take notice in the poor boy’s mannerisms, the way he would look over his shoulder every so often, or walk a little bit faster when going about his assignments. How long has it taken for the detective to notice something like this, regardless whether or not Leon was trying to make it obvious? 

For the remainder of that same day, the older man sat back down at his desk rattled in deep conflict. Elliot tried to formulate every possibility of what had the kid so viciously troubled, going down the list from the worst to least possible scenarios occurring in a kind of department that had zero tolerance for violence and hazing. 

Worst-case that came to mind: someone was giving Leon a bad time. 

This couldn’t possibly be the case because almost everyone had an equal consensus towards the young blonde and that was that he was a reliable addition to the force and a good person. If anyone had an issue with the rookie, then a disagreement like that would have been brought up sooner or later. Elliot couldn’t think of anyone who would go out of his or her way to give the new blue a hard time. 

_Could it be an outsider?_

Elliot went over any available clue that could come to mind, and his thoughts leapt straight to the Umbrella officials. On the outside, not one of them seemed to push the boundaries into the sanctity of the separate divisions. Instead Elliot was left believing the officials were not as presently observant as they first claimed. Not even George or Neil had a complaint or a slip sent their way to stay in line, which would have been a really big giveaway. 

In the end, Detective Edwards decided to go straight to Marvin to share his suspicions, hoping a second opinion could help sort out this problem. 

It’s David who lets the detective know where Marvin was after some time of waiting impatiently around the West office. Elliot was about to try again tomorrow before David remembered he wasn’t the only person currently left alive in their office space. And so off Elliot went to what he could only hope to be a pointless endeavor, for a situation that might not appear what it seemed. Elliot could only hope, too tired and too old for this kind of worrisome scandal. 

Just as the detective was about to round the corner, his body was instinctively held back by fear incarnate. The sound of sprinting came to a harsh halt and the figure turned around in time right before Elliot to make himself known—followed by thunderous footsteps close behind, stopping right in front of the first individual. Uncomfortable shuffling can be heard, and whoever was at that bodyguard’s—there was only one monster that can walk like that—unmerciful scrutiny must have the worst kind of luck. 

“Yes…?” There was a tiny break in Leon’s voice, as Elliot recognized instantly. “… Do… you need something?”

There was a moment of silence, indirectly making the air around the hallway fall heavily over the tense situation. It took everything for Elliot to not to make a sound, unsure if and when he should cut in and diffuse the situation—or to settle it. Reading the mood, things were about to go down judging by the tone of the young rookie. The blonde sounded like he was fed up with something, and Elliot had an inkling feeling of what it could possibly be. 

No matter what, he wasn’t going to leave the hallways without Leon. 

“If you’re looking for Sherry, then I haven’t seen her.”

Again, no words left the giant colossus hovering over the younger man. Elliot felt sweat upon his brow, he can’t imagine Leon’s own discomfort. 

“Look, I don’t know if I’ve ever gave you the wrong impression but whatever it is—I’m sorry.” Leon’s statement sounded practiced and mechanical, like he’s thought out how to confront the taller man. How long has this stalemate been going on? Elliot could only assume since the beginning as he quietly waited and listened. “I didn’t mean to miss the orientation, and I’ve already cleared it out with Dr. Birkin.”

The taller man continued to remain still. 

“You... it's you who's been following me around, isn't it?!” Elliot could determine the evident rage spewing the young rookie, who must have lost his patience at this point. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being hassled like this, especially at my workplace. I worked _very hard_ to get here and I don’t need someone like **you** to keep me in line—especially when I have done nothing wrong to begin with, _got it_?”

Another moment, and then there came meticulous movement, calculated and careful as the larger gray man slowly adjusted through his thick black cloak, searching for something that was concealed in side. It took some time before the domineering figure found what was hidden away in the inner pocket, and presented the unseen object to the shorter male, patiently waiting for a reaction. Elliot took a risky breath in anticipation, wondering when Leon needed his superior’s rescue. 

“… Oh.” The young man sounded genuinely surprised, having cautiously accepted whatever it was the bodyguard handed to the rookie. “I’ve been looking all over for this…” Leon looked up towards the figure, astonished. “W-was this what you’ve been trying to do… to give this back to me?”

There came a grunt, which made Elliot flinch. That was the first ever clue since the very beginning of this damn performance review that the cloaked man could actually speak. 

“Thank you.” A pause. "You really shouldn't follow people like that. I thought I was in trouble about my absence."

Another grunt—and then there was another slow calculated move towards the rookie that made the younger male sharply inhale. Elliot’s poor mind couldn’t will the imagery that was surely taking place right around that corner; perhaps saving the detective’s poor mind of what Leon was going through. The sound of soft skin on skin was audibly heard, especially when there was no other sound aside from Elliot’s own beating heart burning in his chest. From what he could make out based on the shapes of the pair’s shadows, it was kind of obvious what was occurring. 

Elliot’s mind felt so dizzy, and he didn’t know if it was appropriate for him to cut in. 

Out of all the possibilities that were the cause for Leon’s anxiety, Elliot would never have thought that this could be one of them. Now to be clear, detective Elliot Edwards had an open mind regarding who a person can fall in love with or have affections for. Love is love, more power to them. He had given plenty of pep talks to the few subordinates who’ve found themselves on that road, like Kevin Ryman and Claire herself. 

What had to be the biggest surprise was that the big guy himself might have similar feelings for the rookie. 

The noise Leon was making was indistinguishable. If the detective had to guess, it sounded like Leon was lost between confusion and shock. While Elliot was trying to keep himself steady and not start to breathe too loud and get had, there was a break between the other two occupants, still unaware of their tormented audience. 

Leon was trying to collect himself, gripping for purchase at that consuming black coat. It appeared he was still in a state of shock. 

“I… I—I have—I—“

There were several more words and gibberish being scrambled around, and Leon’s mind must have short-circuited to the point that the only logical answer to this scenario was to bolt out the hallway and out the door, leaving the giant man to himself. 

Elliot wished he had done the same, but again, his legs betrayed him, and he slump down to the ground. He craned his head upwards, because at that point he must have been heard and sure enough he was met face to face with the notorious bodyguard. 

The detective doesn’t believe he’ll ever get used to that ominous gaze, which always left him with a sickly feeling in his chest. 

“I didn’t see anything, _I swear._ ”

The large figure huffed at the scrambling detective’s weak exclamation, before pursuing other requirements elsewhere, leaving his witness to collect himself. 

Elliot didn’t know how long it took for him to regain movement in his feet, but eventually he got back up and found the strength to run up all those flights of stairs, while avoid the concerned faces making their rounds throughout the department. By the time Elliot regained consciousness, he nearly slammed right into his Lieutenant and spent the next several hours trying to form a coherent sentence.


	2. Annette's Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the outpouring comments have been so amazing to read. Thank you all for the support, I was not expecting that. I will work hard to make this fic as wholesome as possible!
> 
> To answer a big question a lot of readers have been asking me recently regarding if Elliot's POV is the only POV I'll be working on and the answer is nope. I will be adding other POV's, and the fic will end with Leon's final perspective (It will be the smutty chapter too, not to give up too much spoilers). 
> 
> For this chapter, I wanted to establish Annette's personality on having the T-00 as her bodyguard, as well as the relationship between Sherry and Mr. X. Sherry will definitely get her own chapter POV, which will be a lot more fun and creatively cute in her efforts to help her bodyguard get that wily Leon! :D Cheers!

Annette was making her way towards the medical room twenty minutes early so she could set up the examination room for the scheduled physical exams. She was sorting through her alphabetized papers when she came upon several officers—she deduced four—holding another male from storming off hollering up a commotion. It has been little more than a week into the R.P.D peer review, and so far the Umbrella researcher has seen more insubordination and unprofessional than anywhere else that she could recall. 

Now normally Annette would never press her business onto other personal affairs, but as it was, they were right in front of the door. Rather than force herself with human interaction, Annette surrendered patiently at a distance, eyeing the spectacle with boredom. She checked her watch, checking the time out of habit as she watched the unruly officers argue with one another, loudly. 

“Marvin, no! You can’t make a scene—for Leon’s sake!”

_“I’m doing this **for** Leon!”_

“Lieutenant, be realistic!” Annette observed two of the blue officers almost lose their hold on the man’s arms, before snatching him back firmly. Annette took a moment, and immediately her thoughts wandered to her husband, certain that William would have found a moment like this truly comical. The one with the curled light brown hair was struggling to speak in between his thick breathing. “—The guy looks like he could crush our heads in the palm of his hands.”

Had Annette held any interest in this tiny misconduct, she would have wondered who it was exactly they were talking about. 

_“I don’t care, Elliot!”_ The Lieutenant—Marvin—growled venomously. One of the men Annette recognized as Officer Aaron flinched slightly at the man’s raw anger. “That son of a bitch has another thing coming if he thinks he can intimidate—“

“Pardon…”

In an instant, the officers had suddenly halted in their ministrations, following after Annette’s voice until they met her with a stare that rivaled Wesker’s. The woman couldn’t handle the wait any longer, unable to comprehend how her husband found enjoyment at this kind of unruly environment compared to their labs from the Umbrella Corporation. There was structure, there was peace, and there was ordinance to those who worked under her employment. If not for the recent experimental breaches, Annette would have been glad to never come into contact in locations like these. For goodness sakes, she had an assistant to deliver her coffee from her favorite café across her daughter’s elementary school. 

Speaking of whom, Annette is reminded of her pager weighing at her side, its purpose reminding her of the connection between a mother and her daughter. The researcher will have to see to it once she can get past this annoying obstacle, and see what her daughter was up to. The thought of finally having an opportunity to spend more time with Sherry was the only saving grace to the woman’s sanity. To be able to see her daughter prance around and observed the building that had once been a museum had to be the biggest takeaway from this “peer review”. 

Annette inhaled a measurable breath while picturing her husband and her daughter, reminding herself why she was enduring this assignment from her superiors. 

“Ms. Birkin?”

Annette lifted her head sharply, her gaze steeled and alert now. The blonde woman noticed one of the men move away from the rowdy group, at the researcher’s attention. 

“You’re in my way,” Annette spoke bluntly, comfortable with her use of tone. “If you’re not here for an appointment, then you are permitted to leave for now... ” When she flipped through the stacks of medical papers in her grasp, Mrs. Birkin didn’t bother to continue further eye contact. “Who is here for an appointment?”

“An appointment for what?” The man named Elliot asked dumbly. 

Annette couldn’t help the deep frown across her face. “You’ve all received some sort of notification regarding physical exams for today. Please make sure you have, and come find me here at your assigned time, thank you.”

“I think I’m one of your first appointments, actually…”

“Kevin Ryman?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can come inside in fifteen.” 

Annette did not wait for further conversations. The woman excused herself as politely as humanly possible—which for Annette Birkin—wasn’t entirely courteous. 

Had Annette waited a moment longer, or let the human parts of her curiosity get the better of her, she would have heard the rest of the argument that continued shortly after her intrusion. She would have bore witness to the Lieutenant of the west division continue to scowl after his associates, still brimming with rage. 

_“I’ll talk to Leon, Marvin.”_

_“—If he gets hurt, Elliot—“_

_“It was a misunderstanding, but we can’t make a scene.”_

_“… Fine. You better keep me updated, so help you.”_

Once inside, Mrs. Birkin set out to organize the entire office space to her own preferences. Already used to a confortable routine, Mrs. Birkin moved through the supplies mechanically and swiftly, placing the antibacterial swaths and medical supplies near the gurney in case she needed to add more information for the more privatized research. There were pads of notebooks for writing and recording, several sanitary vials and syringes that were placed at safe distance, and finished after sanitizing the area once more for good measure. She needed everything to be as accurate as possible if she is to succeed in amplifying her data research. 

_In Umbrella’s eyes, if you do not progress then you are obsolete._

Annette refused to be thrown in such a demoralizing category, and so, while her husband busied himself with the more hands-on observations, Annette worked behind the veil of regulations to scout viable subjects. 

And not one individual has proven themselves worthy to her lifetime research. While this setback did not deter Annette in the slightest—for now at least—she will find those with the right genetic immunity. The perfect code, and the answer to her husband’s virus. 

A knock on a door, and eventually Annette meets her first patient for today. It was the same male as before, surprising the primly researcher that he had actually listened to her instructions. Annette welcomed the man to the modified gurney, her equipment ready for acquiring the information the woman desperately sought after. 

“Please have a seat.”

\--

Around 11:00 a.m. Annette was due for another coffee, with a heavy dose of whiskey, after dealing with what had to be the most animated group of people she has ever had to deal with. The woman was beyond tired, and then she remembered she did not sleep the night before which could be the reason why she felt a little sluggish earlier this morning. 

“How much longer is this going to take?”

Again, Annette didn’t bother falling bait to another lip of conversation. The man named Elliot had been skittish throughout the entirety of his physical exam, and Annette was starting to get annoyed—more than usual. 

Annette perked at his right shoulder, the one her patient notified to be his dominant, and reached for a syringe and a gauze pad. 

“Lift up your sleeve for me.”

“I’ve already had my flu shot.”

Never before had Annette wanted to cause physical harm onto another person. 

Well… there was that damn woman in red, wherever that mercenary was cat walking off to, Annette inwardly hissed. The Umbrella researcher’s headache was becoming more prevalent, and she really wished for a smoke. 

“No, Mr. Edward,” Annette replied. “I’m simply taking a blood sample for documentation.”

“Okay… “ The younger man looked after the blonde woman with a level of uncertainty, not hiding his discomfort. Annette couldn’t blame him, she wasn’t much help on her end but it wasn’t like Annette actually cared. 

The next part was as like a smooth ritual, as Annette swathed at the man’s fair skin with the alcohol wipe before piercing the skin, taking the required amount needed in blood sample, before applying gauze and medic tape. If Annette really wanted to play along with a personal joke—she would have given the wincing man a red lollipop before sending him on his way. 

“Is… is your bodyguard…directly part of the Umbrella Corporation?”

“My bodyguard—ah—yes…” Annette relented that portion after a short confusion, and said nothing further.

Annette ripped around to her paperwork to set up for the next patient, who should be here any minute now. The woman was trying to find the medical files according to the schedule, after writing down the current information for Elliot Edwards still seated right behind her. She could feel his stare on her back, but Annette was willingly ignoring his actions. 

_“He’s not… dangerous, is he?”_

That stopped Annette in her tracks, her pen halting mid action as the woman raised her head to such a question. It was a question, long ago, she had asked similarly during her own encounter with the tyrant clone. 

It was obvious enough the T-00 wasn’t human; it’s appearance a dead giveaway to that existential notion. A true example to its name, the Tyrant T-103 series were the kind of mass produced human bio-organic weapons meant for one purpose and that purpose alone—for the unforeseeable frontlines in warfare. These clones were the end result for a quest to develop the “ultimate life form”—as William would put it. They were not engineered in the same way as any normal life form, or “born” the same way either. While offspring’s were born from a mother’s womb, inheriting a parents physical and emotional trait that would make them unique in their own way, with a personality that truly defined their individuality and freedom of choice—the T-103 series did not. For them it started in a cold test tube, in a cold laboratory, created by cold people on a little island called Sheena Island.

When Annette was informed one of these experiments would be accompanying them, she was instantly skeptical. Annette was a cold, calculated person who knew what needed to be done and what stakes had to be taken. The researcher knew better to let go of the human part of her that would have left her insane after what she’s done for this kind of career, but when she pictured this creature near her family, Annette had to bite down her tongue—very hard—to keep from disobeying her superior’s orders. 

_“The T-00 will follow any command you give it. It will provide backup towards your safety while you are out in the field.” ___

____

Annette remembered looking into those eyes, and how they looked right back down at her. For the first time in her life, Annette was left in a sea of doubt regarding that thing’s existence, how it inspected her form. It was like being analyzed for a quality that Annette clearly possessed and it did not. Perhaps it was the living color to her skin, or how it could hear the heart beating inside her chest cavity. Regardless, it left a suffocating weight over her conscience at having allowed such a thing to come in contact with Sherry. 

____

Miraculously, Sherry did not see it the same way after being gradually explained to what exactly the T-00 was meant for under their supervision, and what it was assigned to do. 

____

There was so much fear inside the woman’s very being when it came time for the eventual meeting, yet it had all but dissipated from existence the second Mrs. Birkin watched in complete and utter awe at how Sherry got the bio-weapon clone to bend down, and permit the little girl to touch at its features. It was like a fantasy straight out of a book. 

____

The tyrant was clearly intrigued at meeting such a tiny life form, vividly observant as the little girl tipped at its hat and pinched at it’s nose with innocent curiosity. Any other human being would have been put off at the overwhelming energy taking place at their feet, but the T-00 relented so much inhuman patience onto the Birkin girl that it was mystifying and downright amazing. 

____

Annette didn’t know what to say, but continued to watch cautiously, still unsure of the tyrant’s sudden interest. Finally, Sherry’s attention reverted back to her mother. She had been trying to get it to talk, and that was the one thing it did not bid to, incapable of speech so early in it’s awakening. 

____

“What’s his name, mommy?”

____

“He doesn’t have one.”

____

“Oh, that’s kind of sad.”

____

Is it? Annette had thought. 

____

“How come he doesn’t have a name?”

____

“That is just the way it is.”

____

There was a delight to the girl’s face, with a look that reminded Annette so much of William’s when the scientist’s mind was set to accomplish a goal at any cost. Sherry looked up towards the T-00 with renewed affection and a whimsical childish protection. Ironic. “Can I name him, then?”

____

Sherry’s mother thought that over, unsure if something like this would be all right for her daughter. It wasn’t like they were keeping it. Once the evaluations were over and Umbrella had what it needed, then the T-00 will be returned back to whichever factory capsule it was birthed from and hibernate until it’s existence was required yet again. 

____

Annette looked into her daughter’s eyes, and her heart melted under her child’s desperation—and relented. Only her daughter could inspire such human emotion from a dead and scientific heart. 

____

“Yes.”

____

The tyrant inclined its head at Annette’s validation, its fedora hiding its features from her line of view. Even if it was created to have an opinion, the tyrant did not voice it—not that it could, either way. Rather, the inhuman anomaly returned its gaze upon the little girl dancing at its feet, withdrawing its hand to permit the little girl to grasp on. 

____

“From now on, you’re name is Mr. X!”

____

_“ **Mrs. Birkin.** ”_

____

Annette felt her heart violently skip a beat as her reality returned to the present like a slide panel slowing down it’s rotation, until Annette felt the cold marble floor through her heels. There came a relapse in Annette’s sense of mind, only barely recalling to recent memory that this man had asked her a question. 

____

Annette recollected herself, and brusquely turned the detective away. 

____

“You must leave now, I have another incoming patient.”

____

Her reply didn’t sit well with detective Edwards, but he nodded solemnly in acceptance and didn’t press her further. Unbeknownst to him, Annette’s heart continued to beat erratically at that past fractured memory, her senses heightened all around her to the point she could hear the detective coming in contact with another person while exiting the door. There came a halted breath and stammering feet, before the two offered each other whispering apologies. 

____

_“I’m sorry, Officer Edwards.”_

_____ _

“No, you’re fine Leon. Don’t apologize.”

_____ _

“Oh… ”

_____ _

“Look, we need to talk about something, about that man—“

_____ _

“What are you talking about? What man?—”

_____ _

“—You know who I mean.“

_____ _

“I don’t know what—“

_____ _

_“Leon…”_

____

Annette felt a pair of eyes make a round in her direction, but she continued to act as if the yellow line paper full of jotted down notes was her current priority. Really, she just wanted the two to stop their conversation so that she could get back to work. 

____

_“Look I know there’s something going on between you two—“_

_____ _

_____ _

_“—I can take care of myself—“_

____

Annette couldn’t take it anymore. She tore herself away from her makeshift desk and couldn’t hide the venom spewing from her lips at such a disruptive ruckus. _Manners be damned!_

____

She pointed a dangerous finger towards the older male. _“You. Out. **Now!** ”_ Then, Annette pointed towards the younger one, the one that missed their first day orientation, the one that had her husband in an uproar of laughter on their way back home that same night. 

____

“Leon Scott Kennedy?”

____

The boy jumped at the woman’s tone of voice, startled as if a schoolteacher had just scolded him. “Yes, ma’am.”

____

“Sit. _Now._ ”

____

The young blonde sat down and didn’t say another word. Elliot watched after the younger male for a while longer, shaking his head slowly before heading out—out of Annette’s line of fire, thankfully. 

____

“Shirt off.”

____

“Yes, ma’am.”

____

Admittedly, when her head finally cooled down and Annette found a moment to regain her notorious composure, she couldn’t help but inwardly admit that Mr. Kennedy was so far her best patient. He did as he was told, and didn’t question her methods in examining his health. 

____

Annette looked over the younger male’s file and started to scrutinize the printed information. 

____

Leon Scott Kennedy. Born in the year 1977. Age: 21. 

____

The newly recruited R.P.D. member graduated from the police academy at his current age with outstanding performance value and mental integrity, and was quickly accepted into the Raccoon Police Department upon his request for transfer. All medical accounted attributed to his good health and stature, and Annette recounted a conversation with Albert Wesker regarding Leon’s potential as a S.T.A.R.S. operative. 

____

A potential. A hopeful data to her corporation’s research. 

____

Annette gave the rookie another good look over, more attentive to the younger male’s defining features more so now after she completed with his physical exam. Leon was currently without his shirt, tending to the bandaged gauze placed over his right shoulder. 

____

Truthfully, in the woman’s eyes, there wasn’t anything notable about the young man that could have been seen as unique. He had that same annoying haircut that made Annette wonder when was the last time she took Sherry to their usual salon, and that uniform Annette typically saw him in appeared brand new and consistently clean. Annette couldn’t help but wonder if the boy took extra special care of his uniform, proud of the patch sewn into its blue cloth—much like Annette was when she herself took pride in her Umbrella lab coat. 

____

“You have been a part of the Raccoon Police Department for how long exactly, Mr. Kennedy?”

____

The question was met with hesitation. “Four months so far, why?”

____

“Curious.”

____

Leon eyed after the woman, rubbing at his sore shoulder where Annette had previously taken blood. The woman was not exactly kind with her ministrations, it felt like she herself had pinched Leon’s skin and not the needle. 

____

“That scar along your back was not from the line of duty, I presume?”

____

The scar Annette indicated towards danced around Leon’s ribcage on his right side. The younger man looked over the old marking like a fond memory. 

____

“This was a childhood accident when I was ten.”

____

“I see…” 

____

There was loud scribbling coming from Mrs. Birkin’s general area, and she could feel Leon’s curious gaze upon her office space. It reminded her of Sherry’s similar level of attention span. 

____

Finalizing the last of her paperwork for the lower divisions with a snap of her large binder, collecting all of her papers together in one fluid motion, Annette gave Leon a courteous nod as a sign to leave. The researcher will need a good break before she could find the strength to deal with next set of physical exams with the entire S.T.A.R.S. division. 

____

Annette could hardly wait, but for now, she was looking forward to a quick lunch with her husband and daughter. They must be waiting for her up on the roof area where there was a private table just for them, waiting patiently for Annette’s arrival. She couldn’t remember what it was her husband had made them, who was usually the chef around their housing routine, Sherry being his little helper. 

____

“We’re done. You can go now.”

____

“Thank you, ma’am,” Leon spoke politely, before getting up to leave in direction of the exit door. 

____

The dirty blonde was having trouble getting his undershirt back on while trying to keep hold of his neatly folded police uniform, incapable of noticing the door knob to the exit slowly twisting around to open itself. The poor boy must have a poor habit of bumping into the wrong sorts of people based on Annette’s distant observations, because Kennedy didn’t realize whom—or what—he ran into when he continued to blindly walk into the most dangerous thing to waltz around Raccoon city. 

____

No, Leon didn’t realize until he made contact with cold black material, and foolishly looked up into those familiar pale eyes. 

____

“Ah, it’s you—I’m just about done.”

____

Annette proceeded to collect her personal belongings, making sure she had everything she needed before she had to come back. She wanted to enjoy her lunch break with her family and not have to worry about going back and forth between these ridiculous stairs for items she may forget in her hurry. 

____

The analytical woman, who was usually on her toes, did not notice what was taking place right behind her back. 

____

Leon was completely frozen in place, petrified by that all consuming gaze. It was effortless how the towering figure before him had little trouble in getting Leon to become completely immobile just by its stare. 

____

The tall encompassing figure reached outward, hesitant at first when it noticed Leon flinch back slightly—which was expected, and anticipated—before proceeding further in it’s investigation towards the scar on the rookie’s bare skin. The young rookie felt the soft touch of leather at his side, and somehow successfully kept himself from releasing a squeak while his face flared up in a burning red. The touch was tentative and explorative, and then finally when Leon was beginning to feel his skin starting burn at the touch, the feeling was gone. 

____

And then it returned, but not at Leon’s side—he felt the lightest touch at his lips. The shorter male looked after the intruding hand in awe, amazed by its size now that he’s had a proper comparison between it and his face. 

____

As Annette was finishing up and was about to turn around to join her T-00 chaperone, Leon remembered that he was still technically shirtless. Before the young blonde could act, Leon was stunned as he watched the Tyrant pick at the human's undershirt itself and pulled it the rest of the way down for the him. Somehow, the rookie remembered to stammer out an, “excuse me,” before crudely bending down to avoid any more physical contact between him and the bodyguard, continuing to run around the left hallway and out of sight, completely red in the face. 

____

Annette was none the wiser to what had happen as she paged her husband that she was on her way now. She was just happy she had an hour break. 

____

“Let’s go,” Annette perked at the tyrant’s direction. “I’m sure my daughter is getting impatient for our arrival.” 

____

\--

____

Believe it or not, the amount of times the Birkin family were able to spend time together was not as rare as any outsider would think. There just wasn’t any outbreak or a worldwide calamity at this moment in time that would separate the trio from enjoying the nice lunch up on the roof area. 

____

Sherry gave her mother an earful lecture for being so tardy for their lunch, just in time as William poured hibiscus iced tea for him and his wife, and an orange juice for Sherry to nurse. 

____

It was nice and quiet outside where the family would not be disturbed, especially when the rain was gone for now and the sun somehow breached through the thick greying clouds to offer a semblance of warm rays. Across the rooftop, the Birkins were watched over by that inescapable shadow, mindful of its charges as they enjoyed their privacy with one another. 

____

Currently, the thing was looking up towards the sky, watching as the clouds followed the weather over the tall buildings from afar. 

____

William was letting loose a series of familiar laughter, which was always comically villainous in sound but not in nature. His daughter scooted her baby carrots from her sandwich, not quite ready to stomach the healthy stuff just yet. Annette was enjoying her iced tea, enjoying its taste as she listened to her husband’s exuberant ramblings. 

____

“I swear, these people always have something that gets them all riled up and gun-ho!”

____

“Do they now?”

____

“It’s such a breath of fresh air. _Literally!_ ”

____

“Well, we do spend most of our precious time underground in the sewers… ” Annette gave in to her husband’s antics, encouraging his inconsistent behavior. Sherry giggled at her father’s behavior as well, equally entertained. “So yes… literally.” 

____

William had a penchant for reading his wife; it was the kind of quality that Annette loved him for, so when she couldn’t hide that weathered undertone, the man was quick to notice.

____

“Is it too much?”

____

By this point Sherry decided to jump out of her seat, careful not to dirty her school uniform in the process. The little girl grabbed at her school bag in order to get to her soccer ball, running off towards the tyrants direction to play. 

____

“It’s not that… but I will say these people have too much energy for my taste.”

____

“You have a taste in people?”

____

“Funny.”

____

“Just a little while longer, Annette.” There was comfort in her husband’s voice, and Annette accepted it wholeheartedly. “We’re almost there… you’ll see.”

____

Annette nodded, a part of her desperate that all her hope and hard work won’t be wasted for an undeserving dead end. She reached out with her free hand and felt her husband’s touch at her palm, a sign of loving comfort for one another. Annette took a moment to bask in this moment, letting it last for a little while longer before asserting her motherly duty and see what her daughter was up to. 

____

Sherry was currently sitting on the concrete roof flooring in an eagle seat position, the tyrant crouching across from her, looking downwards to the little girl’s activities. 

____

“Sherry,” Annette called after, unsure whether she should get up or not. Somehow, she “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

____

“Writing!”

____

Thinking nothing of it at that moment, Annette returned to enjoy her chicken soup and apple slices, continuing with her husband’s conversations and joking personality. The two enjoyed the weather for how ever long it lasted until the clouds started to make a comeback. Before long William received a notice from his personal pager from Albert Wesker, not too happy at being disturbed. 

____

Annette offered to take their daughter inside before it started to rain again, pressing a kiss to his lips before sending him off at last. Mrs. Birkin proceeded to watch over her daughter’s antics, and realized the two were working at a piece of paper with Sherry scribbling down at its surface with her favorite blue pen. 

____

Annette would have looked over the light scene with little worry, had she not noticed the tiny smirk in the tyrant’s expression. An expression…

____

“Sherry, what is it that you’re writing, sweetheart?”

____

Sherry jumped in place at her mother’s voice, realizing that she was not alone with her new protector. The little girl whispered something exclusively to the T-00 before facing her mother. “I’m writing down notes!” Sherry replied happily, jotting down into her notebook feverishly afterward. 

____

The little girl always had perfect writing, as if a grown adult has been scribbling into that Hello Kitty notebook all along. 

____

While unsure at first, Annette let it go… for now. It was almost time for her second back of physical exams and she really wanted to get it over with. The idea of returning to their privacy of their home sitting on the family couch under her favorite blankets with her daughter by her side—made Annette want rush through the physical exams. Annette called after Sherry, waiting for the little girl to rise and collect her school supplies into her backpack, and didn’t miss Sherry giving that towering T-00 a bright smile and a thumbs up. 

____

Again, Annette was left mystified. She will have to investigate that further. 

____

_“He’s not… dangerous, is he?”_

____

Annette nearly tripped on her own two feet as they made their way down, her thoughts clouding her sense of direction. Sherry did not notice her mother’s misstep, neither did the ever vigilant tyrant—or did it? Sherry’s mother threw a quick glance over to the bio-weapon, curious to see if that phantom expression was still present. 

____

Its eyes were front and center, concentrating to everything that was occurring before it, while mindful of the little girl dancing around to the stomps of its feet. Sherry began to mimic her favorite protector, stamping her shiny black school shoes after the larger tyrant playfully, which didn’t appear to bother the walking weapon in the slightest. Annette walked after the pair at a passive pace, watching after her daughter’s interactions with the thing with an interest. 

____

_Could such a thing develop attachments?_ Annette inwardly questioned. The analytical part of Annette couldn’t contain its deductive conspiracies. 

____

Each interaction between her own flesh and blood and a killing machine was starting to affect the woman and every aspect of what she had formally assumed to be the T-00’s nature. 

____

If Sherry lifted her hand in request, the T-00 took immediate action and provided its hand to assist the little charge. If Sherry asked for something, the tyrant would procure the missing item without question. And if Sherry would innocently ask to be carried, Annette is left stunned as the T-00 holds her daughter with such care and a dedicated guardianship that made the woman question how human this thing could instill. 

____

_Was this something Umbrella knew all along?_ The blonde woman was left to grievously question. _Or was this a test from her superiors, to see what it would do if let out?_

____

Annette did not allow those questions to strike her down into hysteria. She didn’t want to cause a scene, and cause the T-00 into a panic, or scare her daughter with her subconscious rants. 

____

Nothing has happened so far, so for now Annette will back off.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments, it gives me so much life! Again, thank you and have a wonderful day.


End file.
